


Betrayal Through Sacrifice

by raidspriestsandbabygoats



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing scene 1.08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raidspriestsandbabygoats/pseuds/raidspriestsandbabygoats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Athelstan discovers the reason behind him being brought to Uppsala, he goes to find Ragnar to confront him about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Betrayal Through Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies in advance if anyone (especially Athelstan) seems vastly OOC, but there's never really been an angry-Athels incident on the show (unless you count the Season 2 battles)...
> 
> Also, this is unbeta'd so if there are any pointless mistakes, I hope you'll forgive me.

“I trusted you!”

Ragnar didn’t even look up as he kept drinking. He slowly lowered the cup and dragged his hand across his lips, pausing for a moment before finally flicking his gaze up to meet the angry eyes looking back at him. “Is something wrong, Athelstan?”

Athelstan stared down at Ragnar in disbelief. He opened his mouth to reply, but his throat tightened in anger and he found he couldn’t speak. His heart hammered in his chest and he was suddenly painfully aware that he was trembling. As Ragnar raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched in a small smirk, Athelstan’s hands curled into small hard fists. 

Before either of them knew what was happening, the young Saxon threw himself on Ragnar, battering every part of him that he could reach. Caught by surprise at the sudden burst of rage from his normally peaceful slave, Ragnar raised his hands to protect his face from Athelstan’s flailing fists and tried to catch hold of his wrists. Suddenly, he felt Athelstan’s weight being lifted off him and he looked up to see Torstein with his arms wrapped around Athelstan’s chest, dragging him back and away from Ragnar. “What’s got into you, priest?!”

Athelstan wriggled and squirmed furiously in Torstein’s grip, kicking out with his legs in an effort to break free. Ragnar slowly stood up, leaning his hand against the tree he had been sitting against. He gazed at his slave’s eyes, filled with rage and red from smoke and tears. “You have spoken with the priests...” It wasn’t a question, but Athelstan nodded anyway.

“He told me everything!” Athelstan paused in his struggling and glared at him, his chest heaving. The entire camp had fallen silent, watching the scene before them. “You... You brought me here to kill me!”

Torstein stole a glance at Ragnar and relaxed his grip a little. “Not kill, priest. You were brought here to be a sacrifice to our gods.” He was forced to take a quick step back as Athelstan twisted in his grip and clumsily swung a fist at his head.

In a flash, Ragnar was beside them, clutching Athelstan’s wrists tightly and holding them firmly in front of him. He stared at Athelstan’s face, flushed with pain and anger, and he felt a pang of sadness in his heart and wished he could have been brave enough to tell the truth before Athelstan had to hear it from a stranger. He and Torstein kept holding Athelstan firmly between them until they felt him finally stop struggling and his thin frame slumped in Torstein’s grip. Carefully, they maneuvered themselves down to the ground, settling the slave between them with Torstein’s arm around his shoulders as he sobbed. “You brought me here to kill me...” Athelstan repeated, his previously furious tone replaced with a broken whisper.

Ragnar’s heart splintered at the sheer amount of hurt in Athelstan’s voice but he kept his face and voice completely neutral as he made his reply. “I am sorry this is how you found out my purpose in bringing you here, Athelstan,” he said carefully. “But you must try to understand. The sacrifices are why we travel here. So that we may please the gods.” Athelstan let out a snort at that and Ragnar sighed heavily, scratching the scruff along his jaw. “We must sacrifice that which we hold dearest or the gods will not accept it to its full potential. You are that to me and my wife. It is an honour, Athelstan.”

If Ragnar had thought that his explanation would calm his slave into submission, that hope was soon dashed as Athelstan raised his head from where it had been leaning on Torstein’s shoulder, and he looked set to hurl himself at Ragnar again, restraining himself only due to Torstein’s arm holding him firmly against his side. “You hold me dearest?” Athelstan’s voice was a quiet hiss, filled with years of unreleased emotion. “Me? Your slave? And was that girl the person whom Earl Haraldson held dearest too?”

Ragnar frowned and cocked his head to the side at that. “What do you care about that now, priest? Haraldson’s funeral was many seasons ago. It is our way to send a companion on the journey to Valhalla.”

“As long as the companion can’t refuse.” There was that hiss again and just as Ragnar was about to open his mouth to ask what was bothering him so much, Athelstan took a deep breath and launched into a tirade that had been building inside him for months. “You sacrifice animals, slaves... Things that can’t say no! It is not because we are the things that are dearest to you. You slit a goat’s neck, you can get another to replace it. You slit a slave’s neck, you capture others on the next raid! There is no other reason for it, Ragnar! You kill these things because you can. Because they can’t fight back. An animal is too dumb to understand what is planned for it, and if a slave fights they can be beaten to death anyway! You can delude yourselves with ideas of honour and companionship but the truth is that you would never sacrifice what you truly hold dearest. You would never sacrifice your children. They are not so easily replaced.”

Ragnar’s eyes darkened and the muscles in his arm tensed as, for a moment, he considered actually striking Athelstan for his words. Was the priest not aware of the pain that he and Lagertha still suffered at the destruction of his son? The pain that had driven them both to make this choice in the first place? And yet, as he thought on it, he realized that Athelstan was right. He would never place Bjorn or Gyda in the position Athelstan faced now. He had lost one child, a child that had not even been fully formed, and the sorrow and sense of injustice at the act was daily threatening to tear him apart.

He was saved from making a reply by Torstein, who pulled Athelstan’s head back down against his shoulder. “Regardless of whether you speak the truth, priest, it does not mean you would not be missed.” A soft kiss was placed to his temple and Athelstan tensed slightly. “And your sacrifice would be honourable. You would meet us all again someday in Valhalla as you drink with the Aesir.”

Athelstan turned his face against Torstein’s shoulder and mumbled something inaudible. The two Northmen frowned at each other and Ragnar poked Athelstan’s shoulder in silent encouragement to repeat himself. Athelstan raised his head slightly and spoke in a quiet but clear voice. “I do not believe in Valhalla.” Ragnar felt his blood run cold and a frown appeared on Torstein’s face as he opened his mouth to protest. Athelstan rubbed his eyes clear of tears and scrambled to his feet, ignoring Torstein trying to drag him back down by his cloak and tunic. “I do not believe in Valhalla.”

Ragnar stared in disbelief at his slave as his voice rang out through the clearing. He glanced around and saw people staring at them, wondering how to react to the words they had heard. Some looked bewildered, others chuckled and shook their heads, convinced the slave must still be overcome from the mushrooms and mead he had consumed the previous night, but most looked murderous and Floki was furiously twitching and chattering to himself as he glared at Athelstan.

His declaration made, Athelstan finally allowed himself to be pulled back down into Ragnar’s lap. “What is the matter with you, priest?!” Torstein hissed at him. “Have you lost your senses?!”

Athelstan smiled bitterly and shook his head. “No. That was last night.” He twisted his head round and fixed Ragnar with a glare. “Was that part of your plan too? To give me a good last night in this world?” Before Ragnar could answer, Athelstan shrugged dismissively. “Well, it was a flawed plan, at any rate. I remember nothing.” The soft blush that appeared on his cheeks suggested otherwise, but Ragnar decided to remain quiet, to let him keep some comfort in the lie he had obviously decided to tell himself. 

Sighing, Ragnar wrapped his arms gently around Athelstan’s waist and held him close. He had always known that this choice of action would be difficult but he had not foreseen this, this level of reluctance and anger. Athelstan was always so meek and quiet, always doing what he was told and calmly objecting when for whatever reason he could not do as he was told. Not even when the people had laughed at his strange ways when he first arrived, or when Bjorn and Floki made fun of his endless questions, or even when he had been dragged past the endless bodies with his hands bound and an axe at his back, not even then had Ragnar ever seen him filled with such deep fury...

Sacrifices had always seemed to bother Athelstan. Though Ragnar couldn’t understand why; he had discovered that the people in England, the Christians, gave away all their treasure to their temples – this was simply an extension of that. And surely the gods would be more favourable to those willing to give everything. And had not the Christian god placed his own son on a cross as a sacrifice for his people..? Ragnar shook his head. The Christians seemed to have a very mixed view on their own religion; how could any of them hope to understand and learn about the true gods if they couldn’t even make up their minds if their own god wanted treasure or his son’s blood? And Ragnar knew, for all Athelstan’s claiming to the contrary, that the Saxon still worshipped his own god. He had seen the cross that had once rested around his neck now tied around his wrist, out of sight but still definitely there. Even now he could see the silver metal glinting in the sun... It was the only thought that had brought him any hope of Athelstan surviving this trip. The gods would take him as they had taken his son, Ragnar was sure of that. But maybe this other god, this strange god that he would never understand, Athelstan’s god... Maybe he would save him.

Ragnar was jolted out of his thoughts by Torstein grabbing his arm and he looked up to see the Seer standing before them, his twisted face pointed down towards them. “You must come.” The black-cloaked figure looked around the clearing and spoke loudly. “You must all come. We have a matter to fix before the sacrifices begin.” He turned to look down once more, his sightless gaze seeming to focus on Athelstan, before he began walking back towards the temple, the crowd following him silently. Torstein helped Ragnar lift Athelstan wearily to his feet before giving them a small nod and rejoining Leif and Arne, explaining to his friends all that Athelstan had said. Ragnar remained watching the trio, feeling uneasy at the identical thoughtful expressions on Leif and Arne’s faces as they listened, before taking Athelstan’s arm and firmly leading him back down the slope towards the temple.

**Author's Note:**

> So I just watched 1.8 and I (still) find it incredibly annoying that there was never any fallout from Ragnar's decision. Which is why I wrote this.
> 
> Also, I'm not sure I believe that Athelstan would be so willing to accept the explanation generally given regarding the reason for sacrifices as a lot of people make him out to be...


End file.
